


six steps in when i fell into you

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Friends, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Science Fiction, also. you both want to kiss very badly, and now ur teaming up, and your boyfriend/childhood rival is a traumatized space pirate, pov ur a traumatized space engineer, space western, to solve the mystery of the destruction of the space station u grew up in, well. more like enemies AND lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: Mistlethrush town isn’t much of anywhere, really.
Relationships: Fennel/Tertiary, OC/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	six steps in when i fell into you

**Author's Note:**

> hello i can't stop making new ocs every ten seconds, here are some awful space boys. 
> 
> title from i love you like an alcoholic by the taxpayers.

Mistlethrush town isn’t much of anywhere, really. It’s a quiet port on the edge of some nowhere asteroid, too close to the fringe and too far from anywhere else. Fennel likes it, in a quiet kind of way. It reminds him of somewhere that used to be home. 

The bar, Penelope’s, is full of other spacers today. The freighter Fennel and the rest had been crewing on changes shift here, so that means suddenly there’s a whole lot of people searching for another ship to take them on. Bars are a good place to make those connections, but Fennel’s in no rush. Not today. There’s time for that in the morning. 

He’d ordered his drink half an hour ago, but he still hasn’t taken a sip of it. He just stares into it, and tries very hard to tune out the voice of the news presenter on the holoscreen above him. 

“— commemorating the tenth anniversary of the disaster of the Valerian Sector Space Station.The official numbers still have never been released, but estimates from people present on the scene at the time placed the death toll at ten thousand at the low end. Today we have one of the first responders here with us, to give us the account from the perspective of an eye witness—” 

“Hey,” someone calls from across the room, “Can we get something more cheerful on, for the love of fuck!” 

The bartender, Penelope, rolls her eyes. “Bloody spacers,” she says under her breath, but she changes the channel. Fennel exhales deeply. 

Of all the days to end up with nothing to do and nowhere to be, it had to be this one. 

There’s one or two other people in the bar who are sitting silently like he is. Part of him wonders if it’s because of— but ten years is a long time. He was only seventeen when it— they never recovered the bodies. There are still people that no one ever got to mourn— 

Anyway. He stares at his drink some more, and tries to just think about work. It had been an eight month run, his last job, working as a mechanic on the bottom decks, and it’s strange to be free again. He could do anything, or go anywhere. Anywhere that a ship happens to be going from Mistlethrush. 

“Hey, Fennel,” a voice drawls from behind him, and it's been _months_ since he last heard that voice, but he doesn't need to turn to know exactly who it is. Valerian Sector accents are uncommon nowadays, after all, and besides. No one else in the galaxy says Fennel's name like that. 

His hand goes to his gun, and he turns slowly. Anger is simmering somewhere inside his chest, has been all day, and this isn’t much but it’s better than sitting here and _thinking._

He isn't surprised to feel the cold metal of a pistol to his temple, and it's so very easy to press the barrel of his own gun hard into this man's stomach in return. 

“Well, now,” Tertiary says, not letting his aim waver for an instant, a grin spreading across his face. “Is that a gun, or are you just happy to see—”

Fennel knocks the safety off and bares his teeth. 

“Hey,” Penelope growls from behind the bar. “No violence on the premises. Take that shit outside.” Then she gives them another look, and laughs harshly. “Or upstairs, if you pay for a room. Either way, keep it quiet.”

Tertiary laughs too, and lowers his gun, seemingly uncaring that it takes Fennel a good few seconds to follow suit. “I do apologise,” he says to Penelope. “Wasn’t meaning to cause any trouble.” 

She crosses her arms and looks unimpressed. There’s zero trepidation in her eyes, despite the fact they’d both been waving guns around mere seconds ago. “This man bothering you, Fennel?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Fennel says, through gritted teeth. He pointedly doesn’t holster his gun, or take his eyes off Tertiary. “Always. But don’t worry. He’s an old friend.” 

“You’re a good kid,” she tells him. “But I ain’t messing around. No violence in here.” She turns her gaze on Tertiary. “You getting a drink?” 

“Yeah,” Tertiary says. “And something for Fennel, here.” 

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Fennel says sarcastically. 

“Fen, c’mon,” Tertiary says, a little softer, taking the stool next to Fennel’s. He’s hacked his hair off since Fennel last saw him, and now it falls messily over his eyes, and he brushes it back as he looks at Fennel. His eyes are still that warm brown. 

Fennel holsters his gun with a sigh. He wasn’t going to shoot Tertiary anyway. Probably. “I can’t deal with this,” he says. “Not today.” 

“Old friends, huh?” Penelope says, pushing two drinks across the bar. Fennel puts his next to his first, still untouched. 

“Yep,” Tertiary says, taking a drink. “This bastard stole my speeder bike when we were both sixteen.” He looks like he goes to tousle Fennel’s hair, but he stops at the last moment, and puts his arm down to lean on the bar instead. 

“I didn’t steal it,” Fennel says, drawn out despite himself. “I stole some engine parts. And put them in my engine. On my speeder bike. Then _you_ were the one who stole _my_ speeder bike.” 

“With my engine parts in it,” Tertiary points out. 

Penelope snorts. Someone across the bar asks something, and she moves away, but Fennel can’t take his eyes off Tertiary. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

“Just passing through,” Tertiary says lightly. 

“Yeah, right. Out here, just passing through.” 

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” 

“I’m _working,”_ Fennel says. “Well. I was. And I will be again tomorrow.” 

“But not today,” Tertiary says, in that soft tone again. It defuses some of Fennel’s anger. 

“No,” he says, quietly. “Not today. Why are you here, Tertiary?” 

“I’ve got a job that needs running—” 

Fennel picks up Teritary’s drink, downs as much as he can in one breath, and slams it back down on the bartop. “No. Absolutely not.” 

They’re sitting close together, keeping the conversation private, away from everyone else laughing and shouting in the bar behind them, and they’ve been in this position before. Fennel knows it. He recognises this teetering dangerous feeling that makes bad decisions so appealing when Tertiary’s around. He always means to walk away. 

He never does. Because this isn’t some dangerous stranger or risky contract. It’s _Tertiary._ And for some reason, Fennel lets him be the exception to every rule.

“What’s the job?” he adds. 

Tertiary leans in close, close enough that Fennel can see the red of his lipstick in the dim light of the bar, can smell his stupid cherry perfume that he’s worn for as long as Fennel can remember. For a moment, he gets the mad impulse to lean in the rest of the way and kiss him. 

“It’s an information run,” Tertiary says. “To find out what happened to the Valerian Sector Space Station. Because if anyone deserves answers, it’s… well. It’s us.” 

Really, Fennel was never going to walk away. But it would have been nice if Tertiary had started with that crucial piece of information. “I hate you,” he says, and gives in to the impulse. In a dark little bar on the edge of nowhere, they kiss, and in a strange kind of way it feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as [drowninginstarlights!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/drowninginstarlights)


End file.
